In the Spotlight
by Fyrewire
Summary: Karofsky is sentenced to life in Hell, or at least the next closest thing available: Glee Club. AU After "NBK"
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Glee (I wish) this is a work of non-canon fiction and should be recognized as such. Thanks to **wilde_shade** from LJ for being my beta.

* * *

David Karofsky was in Hell. Which, he noted, looked a lot like principal Figgins's office. His dad sitting to his right, the Spanish teacher Mr. Sh…omething to his left, and the principal across from him.

He had just been told that he was going to be tortured.

Okay, maybe torture was a bit of an overstatement, but it might as well have been one and the same to the jock.

He was being forced to join that stupid Glee club. And his father agreed to it.

His look of betrayal had done nothing, his father only silenced him and told him that they'd discuss it at home.

Mental note: poison father.

Mr. Shomething handed him a list of meeting times for the week, said something about how he'd be warned if they changed.

It was the same time every day. He wondered just how much faith he had in the intelligence of the students if a schedule was needed for that.

He walked to the car in a sort of numb shock, his mind surfacing once he heard the car door slam behind him.

As his father started the engine, a million questions ran through his head. But the only one that managed to slip down through his lips was: "Why?"

His father sighed as they drove, looking straight ahead and keeping his eyes focused on the road. "Because, you need to learn to control yourself. I had no idea what you were doing at this school, didn't hear about it until today. And you know what? I'm honestly ashamed."

_Son. I am disappoint._

Somehow, that thought didn't make him feel better, because if there was one person who could lay on the guilt, it was Paul Karofsky.

"Dad-" he started, but was cut off.

"No, no complaining, no apologizing. This will be good for you." They pulled into their driveway, David honestly didn't remember it taking so little time to travel between the school and their house, but that was irrelevant. His father turned and gave him a stern look. "You are going to go to this Glee club. You are going to sing and get to know the people there and you are going to learn that they are human. Do you understand?"

He knew that they were human. He also knew that if word got out that he was in Glee, punishment or not, he would be faced with the same problems that he had caused them over the years. Except for maybe the things he'd done to Kurt; that was a different can of worms entirely.

"David." His father's voice cut into his thought process.

"Huh? Oh. Y-yeah. I understand." With that, David Karofsky opened the car door and slid out. He could still feel his father's eyes burning into the back of his head as he walked to the front door.

He walked up the stairs to his room, making sure to quietly close the door behind him despite the burning desire he felt to slam it a million times. He fell onto his bed with a loud 'thump' and buried his head under the dark blue spiral pattern of his pillow.

He wasn't sure how long he'd lain there, wallowing in self-pity, but before he knew it he was called down for dinner.

As he left his room and headed towards the scent of meatballs, all he could think about were the various ways he could hide his part in the Glee club from anyone he knew.

And then he thought about the inevitability of it getting out.

And then he thought about faking his own death and escaping to Canada.

For that was the natural thought progression, you see.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own Glee (I wish) this is a work of non-canon fiction and should be recognized as such. Thanks to **wilde_shade** from LJ for being my beta.

* * *

The next day, David walked into school feeling like he had a giant, glowing neon 'X' over his head. No matter where anyone was looking, they all stared at him.

He shoved the weird kid with the troll hair into a locker as he walked past. Possibility of punishment be damned, he needed to hit something.

He walked by Kurt and his chick friend – she had a name that sounded like a car, Saturn? – and sent them a long glare. He didn't know if they were aware of his punishment, but he wanted them to know that it was entirely their fault.

The day passed by in a sort of blur for him. He vaguely remembered coming up with some bullshit excuse to Azimio about why he wasn't helping with tossing kids into dumpsters or why he wasn't really talking at all.

Before he knew it, he stood in front of his locker, the final bell still echoing in his ears. He stared at the books on the shelf as the other students filed out around him. After the sounds of life had faded, he pulled out the sheet of paper with the Glee meetings listed.

Ten minutes, plenty of time to fake his own death and escape to Canada.

Five minutes later he found himself standing outside the Choir room and wondering when, exactly, Canada had gotten so small and rectangular.

Clenching his fists in his pockets, he made sure that the glare on his face wasn't going to leave before inhaling sharply through his nostrils and entering the room, a decidedly subhuman growl hanging low in the back of his throat.

The ambient chatter coming from the room seemed to immediately stop and be replaced by a deafening silence as everyone stared at him as soon as he entered the new country.

To his credit, he managed not to flinch and instead sent a dark glare around to all of the Canadians. Mr. Shomething wasn't there yet, which meant he was alone with the Glee brigade.

He walked around the area, avoiding eye contact with everyone and being as brooding as he could manage.

Which, in Kurt's opinion, made him look like a sulking puppy.

The soprano sat in the back of the choir room with Mercedes, watching as Karofsky tried and failed not to look like he was completely at a loss.

"I swear," Kurt hissed under his breath as Karofsky walked around the choir room, looking like he belonged about as much as a flamingo belonged in a henhouse. "If he takes one more step toward me I will shoot him. In the face. With a missile."

Mercedes let out a small laugh, which turned into a violent cough when Karofsky looked towards them, eyes narrowed.

"Okay, kids." Mr. Shuster came in, a comically large folder of sheet music under his arm. "Let's get going!" Kurt held the strong belief that it was not natural for someone to be that perky and be a teacher. And yet, Mr. Shu managed to make it seem like it was a requirement.

"Mr. Shu!" Rachel raised her hand as Karofsky sat down, still sending puppy-glares around at anyone. "Before we begin I would like to make clear to you that there is someone who is not one of us in our midst." She sent a pointed look to Karofsky and, for once, Kurt found himself agreeing with her completely. He glanced out the window to check for the flying pigs.

Mr. Shu bounced on the balls of his feet and tapped his fingers against the folder of music with a rhythmatic 'tha-pa-pa-pump.'

"Actually, David is joining Glee." You could hear a pin drop, and Kurt found that he suddenly had to collect his jaw from the floor.

"Why would he want to join, anyway?" Finn asked, casting a suspicious look over at Karofsky who, surprisingly enough, ignored him. "He isn't exactly subtle about hating this club."

"After a discussion with Principal Figgins and David's father." Karofsky tensed at the mention of his father but stayed silent. "It was decided that he should join Glee in the hope that he would broaden his mind."

Karofsky rolled his eyes. Kurt raised his hand.

"Yes Kurt?" Mr. Shu asked, acknowledging the teenager. Karofsky glanced back to look at him.

"What if we don't want him here? He's bullied all of us," He motioned around the room for emphasis. "And I, for one, really don't want him to drag the quality of our performance down."

"Kurt-" Mr. Shu started, only to be cut off by Karofsky.

"You saying I can't sing, Hummel?" He turned so he could glare properly at the not-at-all cute soprano.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Kurt said in a way that made it clear that no, he was not sorry at all. "Should I use smaller words?" A patronizing smirk crept its way on to his face while his eyes lit up with glee. "Let me try again." He cleared his throat in an exaggerated manner. "You." He pointed to Karofsky. "Cannot." He made an 'X' with his arms. "Sing." He mimed talking into a microphone.

Karofsky's body tensed and he clenched his hands into fists. A mantra of 'I will not murder the Glee club.' running through his head at an increasing speed. "Oh please, like it's really that hard." He bit back the urge to let a smile out at the way nearly everyone had bristled at the comment.

Kurt opened his mouth to send back what Karofsky was sure was going to be a scathing comment about his intellect, but was cut off by Mr. Shu.

"Alright, Kurt! David! That's enough!" Mr. Shu's voice cut through the tension that was filling the space between the two of them. He sounded genuinely angry. "David, come forward, let's see what you can do." He was searching through his folder of sheet music when Karofsky finally dragged himself to the center of the room.

"Okay," Mr. Shu said, pulling out a song and handing one sheet to David and another copy to Brad. "Here, sing this." He motioned for Brad and the other band members to start as he walked to the wall.

The first notes of the song started up, and David cast a look around the room, his eyes locked onto Kurt, who was looking at him with a smug smile that implied he would enjoy the upcoming train wreck.

_Well, screw that._

David was many things; and prideful was fairly high on the list. And if there was one thing he wasn't going to let happen, it was letting Hummel be right.

He looked at the sheet music. Two measures until he started singing. He took a deep breath.

* * *

Okay, wow. Story's been up for a week and I have eleven reviews, fourteen favorites, and thirty-nine watches. Wow. I love you all.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own Glee (I wish) this is a work of non-canon fiction and should be recognized as such. This chapter is unbeta'd, and will likely be replaced by the beta'd version at a later date, all mistakes are my own.

* * *

Kurt watched as Karofsky walked forward, the jock's hands were twitching, he was nervous.

Personally, Kurt knew that Karofsky wouldn't make it to the end of the week, he hated New Directions and they hated him. And really, how good could the hockey player possibly be?

His thoughts came to a screeching halt the second aforementioned hockey player opened his mouth.

_Well, it's one for the money,_

_Two for the show,_

_Three to get ready,_

_Now go, cat, go._

Hmm, Elvis Presley wouldn't have been Kurt's first choice, and he wouldn't have thought Mr. Shu was the type to have any of the songs. But still, Karofsky managed to not look like a complete idiot while singing.

Had he really just thought that?

_But don't you step on my blue suede shoes._

_You can do anything, but lay off of my Blue suede shoes._

Still, Karofsky's voice wasn't really _that_ bad, but he refused to concede on any part besides that.

Karofsky slid off his jacket, and Kurt felt his mouth start to dry before he forcibly dragged his eyes away from the jock's arms. Well, not as chubby as he'd thought, then.

_Well, you can knock me down,_

_Step in my face,_

_Slander my name_

_All over the place._

Karofsky – ah jeez – Karofsky was bobbing in time to the music, about five seconds away from dancing and somehow managing to look graceful.

_Do anything that you want to do, but uh-uh, _

_Honey, lay off of my shoes_

_Don't you step on my Blue suede shoes._

_Well you can do anything but lay off of my blue suede shoes._

He threw his arms to his sides, apparently not needing the music, jumping out so his legs were placed a bit farther than shoulder length, he cast a long look around the room and Kurt forced himself to look anywhere that was _not_ the muscles that Karofsky _had_ to be flexing because normal muscles didn't pull against skin like that.

_You can burn my house,_

_Steal my car,_

_Drink my liquor _

_From an old fruitjar._

Karofsky mimed drinking, he had started moving around the floor, apparently losing himself in the music.

Kurt needed to focus on anything besides how different Karofsky looked when he was at ease.

He started counting the stains on the wall across from him.

_Do anything that you want to do, but uh-uh, _

_Honey, lay off of my shoes_

_Don't you step on my blue suede shoes._

_Well you can do anything but lay off of my blue suede shoes._

There were five stains on the wall across from him, two of which looked like two rather crude portraits of Mr. Shu that he was sure coach Sylvester was somehow behind, before he found his eyes slowly being dragged back to the dancing jock. How was it that he managed to look both fluid and amateurish at the same time?

_Well, it's one for the money,_

_Two for the show,_

_Three to get ready,_

_Now go, go, go._

He could feel a certain energy going around the room, the kind of energy you felt when you were enjoying something, and he knew that he had been wrong about his estimate of how long Karofsky would last.

He hated being wrong.

Rachel would refuse to let him out of the club, if she found out you were good but not good enough to upstage her then you were doomed from the start to become a part of her evil, evil plans.

_But do'nt you step on my blue suede shoes,_

_Well you can do anything but lay off of my blue suede shoes._

Santana and Brittany, well it would really only be Santana wouldn't it, would try to seduce him – good luck with _that_, Lopez – and everyone else would tolerate him before eventually reaching good terms with him.

Well not him, he was never, ever going to let Karofsky within arms reach of him.

Arms…

_No, bad Kurt! _He told himself while willing his eyes to move away from where they had become firmly fixed.

_Well it's a blue blue blue suede shoes_

_Blue blue blue suede shoes_

_Blue blue blue suede shoes_

_Blue blue blue suede shoes_

_You can do anything but lay off of my blue suede shoes._

Karofsky finished with a small jump, seeming to pull himself back to reality with all the finesse of a cat falling off of a two-story building. The music fading out of the room, the silence seemed to be even louder than what had preceded it.

Then the clapping started – Rachel, obviously – and was soon followed by various levels of enthusiasm from around the room.

Kurt's fingers twitched.

"All right," Mr. Shu gave a hearty grin and clapped Karofsky on the back, pushing him towards one of the empty seats in the process. "Way-to-go, David."

Karofsky was panting slightly, his hands shaking as he handed Mr. Shu the music, he managed to not completely collapse into the chair but was still less than graceful in the process.

Taking the jock finishing as all the invitation she needed –and really, wasn't that just typical – Rachel strode to the center of the room, her head held high and her shoulders fixed firmly to a place where she would be neither slouching nor would she be thrusting her chest forward.

She smiled to Karofsky and nodded. "Not bad, K-David," he hadn't been expecting her to immediately jump to Karofsky's first name, but given her desire to be liked by everyone it didn't come as a surprise. "Now," she turned to the rest of the club. "David's performance actually did a good job of bringing up a point I want to address: choreography."

A groan emanated from everyone in the room - except for Finn, who knew better, and Karofsky, who _didn't_ know any better – but Rachel simply let a smile spread across her face while barely twitching an eyebrow before pressing on.

It had taken Kurt many a year to learn the fine art of tuning out Rachel Berry, and he was proud to say that those years of putting up with her that dated as far back as grade school had not been wasted, but as he put the carefully honed practice to work he suddenly became aware of a set of eyes carefully burning two identical holes into his jaw line.

He made a deliberate decision not to look at Karofsky, and tuned back in to Rachel's ramblings.

* * *

I do not own Elvis Presley's _Blue Suede Shoes_.

For the record, I didn't want to pick anything too personal for Dave, and this was the only song I can sort of imagine in his vocals. I'm saving the songs that suit Dave for when he gets around to picking his own music.

Once again, I love you all, thanks for reviewing/faving/alerting!


	4. Chapter 4

I don't own Glee (I wish) this is a work of non-canon fiction and should be recognized as such. This chapter is unbeta'd, and will likely be replaced by the beta'd version at a later date, all mistakes are my own.

* * *

David stared at the steering wheel of his car as if it held the answers to many questions. Why there was war, why politicians always seemed to get dumber the second you mentioned an opposing view, and why waffles were so delicious.

He was decidedly not thinking about Glee club, or about how Kurt Hummel was behind the minor definitely-not-a-hissy fit that had resulted in him staying in his car in the parking lot until he was calmed down enough to drive without causing an accident, meaning that he was well over ten minutes late for dinner.

He was in the driveway of his house, attempting one last cool-down before he would face his parents.

His mother would ask how things had gone, and his father would just sort of sit there and try to psychoanalyze him without making it obvious that he was doing it. He failed at the subtlety, but it was the intent that counted.

Finally, with a sigh that seemed to shake the entire car slipping from his lips, his feet touched the driveway and he went to the house.

Once inside, he could hear his parents talking (something about what his dad had done at work, he didn't really care) as he walked to the kitchen. A large part of him didn't want to go in there and instead just slide unnoticed into his room.

The remaining part was his stomach, it demanded sustenance.

His parents quieted when he entered the kitchen, and even though he refused to so much as peek at them from the corner of his eye, he knew they were staring at him; looking for any signs that he was angrier, or 'fixed' of his rage.

He ignored them and grabbed a plate of chicken wings before turning and walking out of the kitchen.

At least, that had been the plan; he was stopped when he reached the doorway by his dad calling him back.

"David?" He froze, ice spontaneously bursting up through the floor and holding his legs in place, he glanced back. His dad had some _look_ on his face, Dave didn't know what it meant, but usually assumed that he was being scrutinized and judged. He resisted the urge to squirm and instead stared at the spot directly above his dad's head.

"Yeah?"

There was a pause, and his dad's mouth opened for a second before closing again.

"Nothing, never mind," he turned back to his food, and Dave wasted no time in getting out of there as soon as the ice broke away from his legs.

He was up in his room and sitting on his bed so quickly that he made the Flash weep with jealousy, he pulled some chicken up to his mouth and started nibbling on it as he turned his laptop on.

He wasn't very fond of having to turn his laptop on, because it always took too long and really why did his computer need like five thousand passwords anyway?

After apparently disarming all the nuclear weapons, he checked his email, And he was shocked, _shocked_, to find that he had twelve Facebook alerts informing him of friend requests from the rest of the Glee club… Except Hummel. But that did not sting at all.

Why oh _why_ had they 'friend'ed him? He hadn't even been in their club for a day. If it had just been Berry he would have understood, but all of them? Does. Not. Compute.

So he spent his meal staring blankly at the screen, trying to allow the information to enter his mind, but to no avail.

He knew what to do! Ignore them; let the requests fester in his inbox until he found some way to get out of the Glee club.

It was a simple plan, and so genius, really.

So why was it that he found himself going through and accepting the friend requests? No, bad Dave! Stop going against our genius plans.

Too late, every Glee kid, minus Hummel, and Mr. Shuster were now on his friends list on Facebook.

Dave buried his head under his pillows in despair.

Sometimes, he wondered if actually had any control over his actions or if he was just some puppet for others to play with.

* * *

Once again, I love you all, thanks for reviewing/faving/alerting!


	5. Chapter 5

I don't own Glee (I wish) this is a work of non-canon fiction and should be recognized as such. This chapter is unbeta'd, and will likely be replaced by the beta'd version at a later date, all mistakes are my own.

* * *

School started on Monday in the only way it could, with a horde of zombies drifting through the halls as loud bells clanged on in the background.

Dave Karofsky was among them, staring vacantly ahead of himself as he somehow managed to keep his head from falling off through sheer force of will.

(The thought to simply let his head fall off in order to escape his fate had briefly crossed his mind, but he had quickly dismissed it since it wouldn't be worth the trouble of explaining why his head fell off)

As the day wore on, Karofsky found himself watching-but-totally-not the Glee club, studying them as if they were animals and he was a National geographic documenter.

_The William McKinley Glee club is a strange pack, often separating during the day, leaving themselves open to predators, before reuniting towards the end. Fascinating._

He thought that he had been incredibly subtle about it.

"Man, why have you been watching those Glee losers all day?"

Apparently not.

"Hey, Azi," Karofsky sighed as he dug through his locker, English was his next class, and seeing as it was the only one he wasn't barely scraping by in, he figured it would be best if he was there on time.

"Answer the question, D. Don't think I didn't notice that you friended them on Facebook." His friend, best friend since second grade thankyouverymuch, raised both eyebrows and gave him a look which invariably translated to 'I'm about to kick your ass if you don't give me some answers' and then he would mentally toss a hasty 'bro' at the end by shifting his eyebrows from 'I'm gonna shit my pants' scary to 'there's someone watching me right now, isn't there' scary.

Speaking of…

Karofsky glanced over his shoulder, no one there. Although he was fairly certain he'd seen a tall man in a business suit in at least five different places.

Regardless, he turned back to Azimio, who was looking even more irritated than when he'd looked away, and slid his English book under his arm.

"Look," he said as they started walking, for Azimio it seemed more like an ominous stalking, "It's a very long story, and I'm still trying to figure out how to tell you. And they friended me."

"Same difference." He scoffed before a brief pause.

Just when Karofsky was beginning to relax, thinking that the subject had been dropped, Azimio spoke up once again.

"Are you gay?" Azimio's voice was flat, barely above a whisper, if that had been meant as a joke, it hadn't sounded like it.

Karofsky's heart stopped for a minute, he couldn't have heard that right. It was impossible.

His head preparing to fall off his shoulders, and he turned to look back at his friend. "What?"

"It sounds like you're coming out, are you?" Karofsky was never more thankful for being exceptionally slow at getting to class than he was at that moment; they were the only ones in the hallway.

"What? No. I'm not" coming out "it's just…" He sighed, running a palm down his face. "Look," he made a note in the back of his mind, which he promptly forgot about, that he'd been saying that a lot lately. "You know how I got called into Figgins's office two days ago?"

Azimio nodded, waiting to see how this would play out.

"Well, apparently it's been decided that in order for me to fully understand that it's not okay to 'make fun' of people." Appropriate scoffing, Azimio would forgive him if he made it clear that it wasn't his fault. "Well, I've been forced into a new after-school activity."

Confusion, and then realization breaks free, horror came over Azimio's face. "_no_" He said in disbelief, Karofsky nodded.

"Yes." Karofsky resisted the urge to look away from his friend.

"Dude, that's-" Azimio groaned. "You should sue the school, my uncle's a lawyer, I can get him to help."

Karofsky sighed.

"I don't think that will work, Azi. My _dad_ agreed with the punishment."

"Man, why would he want you in that gay little club?" Karofsky didn't flinch, but his grip on his English book just _barely_ tightened.

Karofsky shrugged, he didn't want to think about what his father had told him just two days prior, he didn't want to think about him nodding along as Figgins and Schuster talked about what they should do. "I don't know." Understatement of the century.

"You want me to throw down some slushies later?" Azimio asked as they started walking again.

It was tempting, and he wouldn't be connected to it and it might make him feel better.

But still…

"Probably shouldn't." He shook his head and sighed. "From the looks of things, Figgins is starting to crack down on things like that. You could be forced to join too, or even expelled."

Azimio rolled his eyes, his head coming along for the ride, before settling Karofsky with a scrutinizing look. "Whatever man, good luck surviving those losers." With that, he turned and hurried off to the class he was supposed to be going to instead of stalking Karofsky.

"… Thanks." He muttered to the empty hallway before entering his classroom.

The English teacher was a strange man, shorter than most of his students, wiry red hair, glasses that seemed to have been stolen from a novelty shop, and a beard that seemed more suited to a lumberjack than a middle-aged schoolteacher.

Even his name was strange, Doctor, and he insisted on being called 'doctor' instead of 'mister', Domino.

Every class he would start off by reciting a story he'd written, typically about cows, and he hardly ever was serious enough to be taken seriously.

He was the only teacher that Karofsky liked, to be honest.

"Mr. Karofsky." His voice changed pitch every syllable, and Karofsky suspected he was one of the few students who could understand. "Glad you could join us." His mustache hid his lips, but Karofsky got the feeling that he was smiling, so he probably didn't mean it in a nasty way.

He shrugged and grunted noncommittally before slinking to his seat.

"Now, as I was saying before Mr. Karofsky here showed up, 'The cow was of a rugged breed, with horns as sharp as swords and hellfire in her eyes…'" With that, Karofsky tuned out.

Next to him, a certain soprano was scrutinizing him out of the corner of his eye.

Karofsky wasn't usually late for English, it was one of two classes they had together and Kurt had made a point of memorizing his movements during them, and the fact that he had been only a day after joining Glee was worrying.

There could have been all sorts of things that Karofsky was doing that could have caused his being late. Like drugs or alcohol or self mutilation or… Or…

Or he was blowing it completely out of proportion and Karofsky had simply been late for class that day.

Why did he care, anyway? He didn't. And with that thought, he let his eyes drift back to the teacher.

English class sped by once he'd taken his mind from Karofsky, and he made sure to keep it away from him as the rest of the day passed.

To Kurt's surprise, he didn't get hit with a single slushy that day, any jock he came across would simply glare at him and maintain a distance.

Curious…

Glee club started at exactly ten minutes after school let out, and Kurt found himself seated in the back of the room and watching as Rachel paced, waiting for everyone else to show up.

Karofsky had gotten there fairly early, arriving shortly after Kurt did, and had seated himself in a corner far away from everyone else and buried his nose in his English book.

It was kind of pitiful that he would only bother to read anything if he was trying to be anywhere but there.

Mr. Schu walked in, humming a song Kurt recognized as 'Heartbreak hotel' and tugging at the rubber band on his folder.

Great. So Miss Pillsbury had shot him down yet _again_. Kurt wondered why he bothered, the woman obviously didn't want to be with him and the way he kept pursuing her simultaneously bordered on masochism and stalkerism.

"Okay, now that everyone's here," Oh yeah, Rachel was being Rachel, wasn't she? "I have some issues I'd like to address." The groaning that rose from the occupants of the room made Karofsky look up from his book. "I've been thinking." She started, but was cut off quite expectedly by Kurt.

"Uh oh," his voice echoed, "That's never a good sign. Quick, someone open a window before the smoke starts coming out of her ears."

Rachel ignored him; their snark was a fairly common occurrence.

"With David here," Kurt would never understand what drove her desire to address Karofsky with his first name, the mind boggles. "We really throw the numbers off."

She must have seen the confusion emanating from everyone else, because she gave an annoyed sigh before going to the whiteboard.

"With David here, we have an odd number of students," She said as she wrote down the names on the board. "Along with having one more boy than we do girls."

Kurt glanced at the board; she had made two columns and written down all of the boys on one side, and all of the girls on the other.

How had he not noticed that before?

"So you're saying we need to get another girl to join?" Finn asked, and Kurt could hear the confusion in his voice. Not for the first time, he wondered what it was like to live in the football player's brain.

Rachel nodded, smiling encouragingly at her boyfriend. "Right, so what I'm thinking is that we should open up some auditions again and then see what interes-" She was cut off, _thank God_, by Puck standing up.

"Forget that," He said, rushing out of the room and tossing a quick, "I know just who to get."

Rachel stared after him with raised eyebrows before turning to the rest of the club.

"Does anyone…?" She started but trailed off, everyone but Karofsky understood what she meant and shook his or her head in negative. She sighed in frustration.

Mr. Schu, Kurt noted, hadn't done anything during Rachel's opening rant and had instead opted to start looking through his folder.

Within a minute, Puck had returned, dragging behind him the strangest looking creature Kurt had ever seen. Sure, it appeared to be a humanoid female, but the brown fuzz on its head that stuck out in ways that shouldn't be natural along with the white powder along its skin threw him off. And, really, what human being in their right mind would wear a neon tie-dye apron with black glasses?

"Guys, this is Sarah Bloom. Sarah, guys." He motioned around wildly, and the creature, Sarah, gave a small wave.

"Hi." It smiled widely, showing off the sort of teeth that were owned by an obsessive dental carer, nearly all white and its retainer gleaming in the choir room lights. "So I'm joining your Glee club then?"

At this, Rachel stepped in. "Not quite." Dammit Rachel, she was probably the only person in the school who would be willing to join just because you wanted to 'even out the numbers' and you're doing your best to make her feel unwelcome! "You see, you have to sing for us first. So that we know you belong in the club."

Sarah seemed taken aback, probably by Rachel in general, and did a rather impressive owl impression before slowly clasping her hands behind her back. She gave a shaky nod.

"Alright then. I don't have a song prepared, and I only know all of the lyrics to one song." Rachel scoffed at this, as anyone who didn't know the lyrics to every Broadway musical ever was clearly beneath her. "But I'll sing a bit of it and you can tell me if I'm in." Already, Sarah was giving Rachel a milder version of the look that the club gave her on a regular basis: confusion and irritation.

With a nod, Rachel stepped back, but crossed her arms over her chest and made it clear to Sarah that she was being judged.

Giving her a small pat on the back, Puck went off to the side as well. Sarah cast one last glance around the room, her eyes wide with panic behind her glasses, before taking a deep breath.

"_When you got it. Flaunt it._" She had a low voice, kind of breathy. She wasn't bad, but Kurt knew that she wasn't very good, either. "_Step right up and strut your stuff."_

Kurt wasn't familiar with the song, he'd have to ask about it after she was done.

"_People tell you modesty's a virtue._" She untied her apron and pulled it off. "_But in the theatre modesty can hurt you._" Her voice shook a bit, but she had gained a bit of momentum from when she started, and sounded a bit above decent.

She cut off, looking at Rachel. "Is _that_ good enough?" Her apron was balled up in her hands and her eyes were wide.

After a moment of seriously considering it, because it was _Rachel_ and that's what she _did_, Rachel nodded.

Just as Sarah was smiling in relief, having somehow gotten the impression that Rachel had more say in the club than she liked to imagine she did, Rachel spoke. "We'll keep you in the back."

Sarah's smile fell, and she slowly nodded before walking over and sitting in a seat.

And it was only then that Mr. Schu seemed to realize where he was. He cleared his throat, managing to sound like he was coughing out a hairball in the process, and ushered Rachel to her seat.

"Okay, for this week's club assignment…"

* * *

Meet the OC, Sarah Bloom. She's going to be a pretty minor character, but she, or something about her, may or may not be a plot point later on, it depends on where this story goes.

Once again, I love you all, thanks for reviewing/faving/alerting!


	6. Chapter 6

I don't own Glee (I wish) this is a work of non-canon fiction and should be recognized as such. This chapter is unbeta'd, and will likely be replaced by the beta'd version at a later date, all mistakes are my own.

* * *

That night Kurt sat on his bed, facemask caked on thick enough to make him look like an Elphaba wannabe, and looked through his math textbook.

He hated math, despised it with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns, so naturally it was the class that he did the best in.

Your sense of humor is not appreciated, Spaghetti monster.

After jotting down the last part of his homework, damning whoever invented math as he did so, he glanced at the clock on his wall. And then he looked again, certain that if he'd been drinking something it would be sprayed it haphazardly over his specially-made if-this-is-anything-but-dry-cleaned-your-ass-is-grass bedspread.

It was only seven, and he only had history and Glee left to work on for the night. Normally he hadn't reached that point until eight thirty at the earliest.

After a quick excursion upstairs to make sure the clock wasn't broken, and another brief stop at the bathroom to peal his facemask off, Kurt decided to test out the theory that he might be caught in a time dilation field.

Pulling his laptop onto his bed, he checked Facebook.

Well, if he was in a time dilation field, so was the rest of the world.

He glanced at his homework, it hadn't been particularly easier than normal, so why, why, why had it taken so little time?

For a moment, he could have sworn he heard dark laughter echoing through his room. But surely he had imagined it.

An aggravated noise in the back of his throat escaped as he turned away form his remaining homework (it was a paragraph-long summery of their current chapter, it could wait), and instead pulled his Glee notebook, yes he has a notebook for Glee club and you should be ashamed of yourself for assuming otherwise, and turned to the notes he'd written on ideas for that week's assignment.

Assignment: Sing a song about heartbreak, preferably on your own, but duos accepted. (Note: Mr. Schu, stop bringing your personal life into the club, everyone else does that enough already)

Ideas: Not a damn one.

Kurt tapped his pencil against his chin thoughtfully, not many ideas to go on.

'TO GOOGLE!' the imaginary superhero in his head announced dramatically before running away and crashing dramatically into a wall.

He was just about to follow his advice, not the crashing into a wall part for that was quite dumb, when his facebook chat popped up, a new message practically screaming at him in order to announce itself.

_Blaine: Hello there. :)_

Kurt smirked and rolled his eyes.

_Kurt: Hi Blaine. Smiley face._

_Blaine: You know, normal people just put down :)_

_Kurt: Oh, I am far superior to normal people._

_Kurt: No offense._

_Blaine: Oh, I'm very offended, words cannot describe how offended I am._

_Kurt: You're not offended._

_Blaine: Drat, my clever ruse has been discovered by… By…_

_Kurt: Amazing man._

_Blaine: Hah, not even._

_Kurt: And now I'M offended._

Kurt pulled up a new window and typed his search into Google as he and Blaine continued to chat.

_Blaine: Are not._

_Kurt: Are too, completely offended, I think you owe me like twenty lattes in order to make me less offended than I am now._

_Blaine: Ne-VAH!_

Kurt imagined Blaine, dressed in full super villain regalia, turning away with a dramatic flair to his cape before he ran away with a maniacal cackle. It was an amusing thought.

_Kurt: Oh, you will. And you will ENJOY it!_

_Blaine: I wish you the best of luck._

Kurt scribbled down a few song titles as he and Blaine continued to banter over chat about things like songs, and elephants, and epic battles involving walrusser.

Eventually the topic turned to Glee, against Kurt's will because he knew that if Rachel were to ever find out he discussed it with 'the enemy' he was a dead man.

_Blaine: So what's new, be honest with me now._

_Kurt: Well… You're not going to believe it._

_Blaine: Try me._

_Kurt: Well, I would have told you sooner, but we didn't chat during the weekend, but we got a new club member on Friday._

_Blaine: Oh? Tell me tell me._

_Kurt: Karofsky._

_Blaine: Wha?_

_Kurt: I know. Apparently he's been forced to join Glee as a punishment or something._

_Blaine: So how much of a disaster was it?_

_Kurt: …_

_Blaine: Kuuuuuurt?_

_Kurt: That's just it, he wasn't bad. He was actually… Really good._

_Blaine: For real?_

_Kurt: If you tell ANYone I said that, I will murder you. With a Gucci handbag._

_Blaine: So he's really not bad?_

_Kurt: I didn't believe it either!_

_Blaine: That's just weird._

_Kurt: Like you wouldn't believe._

_Blaine: So… Seeing as you most likely want to get off the subject of Karofsky, what else has happened that I don't know about?_

_Kurt: We got a new Glee member today, her name is Sarah Bloom, and apparently she knows Puck._

_Blaine: Puck?_

_Kurt: He's the guy with the Mohawk who posts the winky emoticons on my Facebook wall whenever he's drunk._

_Blaine: Oh yeah, I like him, he seems like fun. :)_

_Kurt: Of COURSE you do._

_Blaine: haha._

_Kurt: Anyway, Sarah, she definitely needs some help._

_Blaine: Horrible fashion sense? Bad singing voice?_

_Kurt: She was dragged into the choir room wearing an apron that looked like it came out of an obscure painting and more flour than could possibly have gone into any food, Blaine. FLOUR._

_Kurt: but yes, she isn't… On level with everyone else when it comes to singing. I think the only reason Rachel didn't scare her away was because we need to 'even out the numbers'_

_Blaine: Rachel scares me, and I haven't even met her._

_Kurt: she has that effect on people. Sarah looked like she was going to start crying when Rachel just sorta… Rachel'd._

_Blaine: Ouch._

They continued to chat for a while longer, about three minutes, before Kurt decided that it was time to get off of facebook and on to working on his assignment.

He looked over his choices once more.

Ideas: Not a damn one. (Scratched out)

Heartbreaker (Mariah Carrey)

Love Song(Note: It's sort-of about Heartbreak) (Sarah Bareilles)

And still, not many choices.

Maybe he would talk to Mr. Schu about changing the assignment.

He snorted quietly to himself before turning to his History homework. Not much chance of _that_ working.

* * *

And there's Blaine (Sort of) I'm hoping to include him in some way, and not as a total and complete douchebag, either.

Once again, I love you all, thanks for reviewing/faving/alerting!


	7. Chapter 7

I don't own Glee (I wish) this is a work of non-canon fiction and should be recognized as such. This chapter is unbeta'd, and will likely be replaced by the beta'd version at a later date, all mistakes are my own.

* * *

School the next day was school the next day, and really there were only so many ways that Karofsky could say that before it started getting ridiculous. In fact, he was just considering skipping out on the start of school and get things started right in the middle.

But that would be silly, then things might get started on strange comments that only make sense if you were there for the beginning.

"Have you seen the guys who mistook my car for a gorilla?" Actually, scratch that, that hadn't had _any_ build up to explain the context.

If it had been said by a certain blonde cheerleader who may or may not have shared a name with a famous mentally disturbed pop sensation, that wouldn't have been _nearly_ as nonsensical as it was.

But instead, Karofsky found himself staring at Azimio and wondering just when he had slipped into the twilight zone and when was the plane gremlin going to attack him?

The day had been going relatively well, he was on time to all of his classes, none of the glee kids had tried to speak with him, and all he had to do was get through practice for the day before going home and that would be the end of that.

But of course, Azimio had come along spouting nonsense. Was he high? Had Karofsky fallen into the twilight zone and not realized it? And while that would explain how he had suddenly been forced into Glee club, he didn't want to have to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder for fear of plane gremlins.

But Azimio was waiting for an answer, and looking at Karofsky like he was slow for not responding right away.

So finally, he said the only thing he could in response to his friend's nonsense, "What."

Azimio scoffed and rolled his eyes, and Karofsky felt inexplicably like an idiot for not getting what Azimio meant. But that was ridiculous, Azimio was just being a jackass and getting in his head.

So Karofsky did what any guy would do to his friend in that situation, smacked him upside the head and told him to stop being a jackass.

"I'm serious, my car smells like bananas," Azimio groaned, rubbing the back of his head. "And come on, dude, did you have to smack _that_ hard? I think you caused brain damage."

"Not that hard of a task," Karofsky adjusted his backpack as they started walking, of course Azimio would have waited until right before Glee club to be weird, it made no sense but it was Azimio and that was what he did. "And why would your car smell like bananas?"

"I don't know, man. But all I know is that when I got to school this morning it smelled like a car, and when I was going out to it to grab some stuff just now, it smelled like bananas." Azimio shrugged and Karofsky glanced at the choir room as they reached it.

"Maybe the monkey gang got it," a soft voice spoke up from his right, Karofsky looked over to see Brittany and Santana. "I hear they've been in town. They attack you with bananas until you're fruity enough for them."

Before either Karofsky or Azimio could say anything, Brittany and Santana pushed passed them and into the choir room.

After a moment of staring after them with wide eyes, he hadn't realized just how _weird_ the girl was until he'd been forced to join Glee, Karofsky turned back to his friend.

"H… Honestly I'd be more concerned about the fact that you know what your car smells like normally." He tried for a smirk, but it came off as more a grimace since his mind was still focused on trying to figure out just what the hell was wrong with Brittany.

"Man, shut up." Azimio shoved him so that his shoulder lightly banged against the doorframe. "You're helping me get that smell out." He pointed a finger at him as he backed away.

"Whatever you say, Azi." Karofsy rolled his eyes before turning to walk into Canada, a sigh dancing out of his lips.

At least, he'd had the intention of walking into the choir room, he was stopped quite suddenly by Puckerman grabbing his shoulder, a cat-like grin on his face as Sarah trailed behind him, backpack clutched in front of her as if it were a shield from everything that was in the choir room. Karofsky could relate with the feeling.

"You're not thinking of going in there unprepared, are you?" Insane. Everyone was insane. Especially Puckerman. Because no sane man could grin like that while saying such random things.

Although, Karofsky wondered if he could legally take those words to mean he was no longer in Glee club. His inner realist said 'no' but his inner optimist was jumping up and down, beating the sides of his skull, and shouting 'YES YES DEAR GOD YES' while quite possibly orgasming. He could never be sure, with his inner optimist.

Finally, he decided on a course of action. "… What the Hell, Puckerman?"

Puckerman grinned, it was the kind of grin that preceeded things rarely seen outside of a cartoon, the kind of grin that made empires fall, the kind of grin that you could never learn, you could only know. It was the kind of grin that seemed to want to break the face of the wearer, but never did.

Nothing good could come of that grin.

Placing an army helmet, which he seemed to have pulled from nowhere so Karofsky was forced to assume it had come out of his ass, on his head, Puckerman moved his arms as if he were cocking a gun.

" 'Cause, son," he drawled in a heavy Southern accent. "It's 'bout to become a WAR zone in dere."

With that, the insane southern army general stormed into Canada.

Dear lord, he was going insane. That sentence made sense.

Sarah stayed behind, still clutching her backpack and inching up to the choir room door. And Karofsky would never admit it, but he was just about as keen to enter the choir room after what had just happened as she seemed to be.

So he gripped the doorframe and looked in, just barely managing to keep his jaw from dropping at what he saw.

They were all insane. It was the only explanation. If they weren't insane they wouldn't have all been holding their fingers out like pistols, or pretending to hold shotguns, and acting like they were all being shot up.

Hell, even HUMMEL was in on it, perched from atop a pile of chairs and taking other people out in a way that Karofsky took to mean he was pretending he was a sniper.

… Aaaaand that thought took four mental tanks and a firing squad to force out of his head. He then focused on Evans and Fabrey, who had somehow found their way to the center of the room and were standing back-to-back, shooting everyone with their imaginary finger pistols.

…

_Note to self: Escape Glee club._

As soon as it had started, it stopped, everyone was lying spread-out across the floor, in poses of Dramatic Death.

Karofsky glanced to his side and locked eyes with Sarah, in the brief moment before she stumbled away from him (he seemed to have that effect on people) and into the choir room, he had seen that she was only _slightly_ less confused than him.

He felt like and outsider, he both cherished the fact that he was an outsider with the Glee losers and hated the sensation.

Maybe he could sneak out of school before Schuester came along and forced him in-

No wait, there was a hand on his back and the Spanish Teacher's voice telling him to get into the room so they could start the meeting and he was being pushed in there and it was annoying and damn it man just let him leave!

But noooooo, instead of being allowed the freedom he'd been aiming for, Karofsky instead found himself sitting on a hard plastic chair, stuck in between Santana and Fabrey and staring blankly ahead as Berry and Hummel immediately walked up to Schuester and began talking to him about the assignment or some competition they had coming up or whatever.

He didn't care about the assignment, he figured he would just fake illness on Friday and forget all about it, but the idea of the competition was troubling to him. He wondered if he could fake illness to get out of _that_…

After contemplating the idea long enough that Berry and Hummel had finished speaking with Schuester (and apparently having won the argument if the grins threatening to break their faces were any indication), he decided it was stupid and ultimately pointless.

If he even so much as thought of trying to do it, Berry would be relentless in her pursuit of him to make him practice with everyone else, or possibly _more_ than everyone else, and he was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to get out of the competition if his neck was broken and sticking out of his skin.

Although…

No, no, not worth the medical bills even if it _did_ work.

"Okay, everyone, quick announcement regarding this week's assignment." Knew it. "After a short conversation with Rachel and Kurt." Said divas each gave a small wave as they walked back to their seats. "I've decided to add an addendum. The songs can be about heartbreak or love. Your choice." Schuester glanced around. "That was the announcement. Now, is there anything anyone would like to say?"

Karofsky learned an important lesson that day. Never ask the club if they have anything they want to say.

Chaos, man… Pure chaos.

* * *

Don't ask me about the thing with Azimio... I don't, I don't know.

Now, it's time for a game of Good News/Bad News!

Good News: I have the general idea of the plot for the story for the next... Let's say ten to fifteen chapters.

Bad News: I can only update Every _other_ week for a while.

Once again, I love you all, thanks for reviewing/faving/alerting!

(Note: Britney fans, don't flame me, it was a joke. One made by Dave. Opinions may or may not be my own.)


	8. Chapter 8

I don't own Glee (I wish) this is a work of non-canon fiction and should be recognized as such. This chapter is unbeta'd, and will likely be replaced by the beta'd version at a later date, all mistakes are my own.

* * *

Azimio's car, as Dave had soon discovered, really did smell like bananas. Why someone would put all the effort into making his car smell like bananas was beyond him, but you had to give them points for their dedication to nonsense.

The week passed on in a blur of Glee club (unfortunately), schoolwork, and having to help Azimio hunt down the idiot who messed with his car.

When Friday rolled around, he found himself sitting in the nurse's office trying to convince her that yes, he was nauseous, and yes, he should go home before school let out.

Was she buying it? No. No she was not.

In fact, she was sitting behind her desk and glaring at him, not allowing him to go home but not forcing him to go back to class, either. For that he was thankful. And it gave him hope that he could stay there until Glee was over and no longer a problem he would have to deal with.

… And then, over the weekend, he would fake his death and escape to Canada.

Yeah, that would totally work.

In the meantime, classes were finishing up and Dave was fairly certain Glee was nearly halfway done, he found himself staring at the ceiling and finding patterns in the mold that he was fairly certain was some form of the plague, but hey, he wasn't one to complain.

He had just found two more unflattering portraits of Mr. Schuester (Seriously, how much free-time did coach Sylvester _have?_) when a chill ran up his spine; this chill was the kind of chill that was made of pure terror, the kind that foreshadowed horrible things.

The chill that Dave had taken to calling Rachel.

He barely had two seconds to register 'oh shit I'm not getting out of this' before the diva had grabbed his arm, right above his elbow and squeezing until it hurt, and dragged him behind her, muttering darkly about how they 'need to be a team' and how if she 'had to work with him at regional's' then he needed to 'suck it up and get all the practice that he could in' because she 'would not be dragged down' by him 'refusing to establish a meaningful connection to Glee club.'

All while this was happening, Dave was making his own arguments against being taken to Glee Club. "No! I'm dyiiiing! I need the sweet sanctuary of the nurse's office!" Had been what he started with, that eventually became things along the lines of "I'm destined to sway in the background, Berry! Whyyy must you torture me?" And "I don't want to be here! Dammit, you can't force me to be one of you!"

By the time they reached the choir room, Rachel had stopped talking and Dave's complaints had deteriorated to "I can't feel me arm."

The girl, despite barely coming up to Dave's shoulders in height and probably weighing less than half what Dave weighed, somehow managed to shove him into the center of the room before turning and walking dramatically to her chair.

Everyone was staring at him, their eyes burned through him like a beam of sunlight amplified by a magnifying glass burned through paper.

He gave a feeble cough. "Oh, I'm feeling kind of sick, I think I'll head back to the nurse's office," He mentally awarded himself the " 'worst actor ever really you should be better at it than this considering how long you've been closeted' award" as he said that, turning and stiffly walking towards the door.

He was quickly stopped by just about everyone in Glee shouting "Karofsky!" (Or a harpy-esque "DAVID!" In Rachel's case) and the sound of chairs being pushed back as some of the more 'footbally' Glee geeks stood up, most likely to physically restrain him.

Dave raised his hands above his head, slowly turning around and surprised to find at least two of them pointing imaginary guns at him.

He stared at them, his eyes big enough to have him mistaken for a creature of anime he was sure, for a moment before slowly inching his way back to the center of the room.

He knew that they didn't actually have guns, but the fact that they seemed to be unaware of this fact was enough to convince him that they were completely bonkers.

And, as everyone knew, you should just go along with crazy people, as they were prone to violence when you challenged their delusions. And Dave wasn't sure he could hold off the entire Glee club if they got violent.

So there he was, standing in the middle of the room, two crazy men pointing invisible guns that weren't actually there at his head, and everyone else waiting for him to sing.

… What was his life?

He sighed, his shoulder sagging with the action, and adjusted his Letterman jacket. The whole 'singing' thing was easier and more comfortable with it off, but he had worn it every club meeting after the first one, and he wasn't about to lose the shield that separated him from them.

… Completely ignoring that the geeks in football sometimes wore their jackets as well, that was completely different.

He sent one last look at Schuester, pleading with his eyes to be let freeeeeee.

But noooo, Schuester was a bastard who seemed to enjoy the fact that he had the teen trapped like an animal or convict or whatever, and simply motioned for him to start singing.

Hoping to convey 'I will murder you' with his eyes, Dave glared at the teacher for another second before turning back to the band. Okay, what was a song themed on romance or heartbreak that he could sing?

Hm… Okay, he knew all the lyrics to that one.

He muttered his song choice to the piano player, who nodded and made a motion to the rest of the band as Dave turned back to the rest of the club.

Okay… He could get through this…

Three, two, one…

"_Easy come, easy go, that's just how you live_." Okay, he would never admit it, but he really loved this song, something about it just hit something inside of him. "_Oh, take, take, take it all but you never give._"

"_Should've known you was trouble from the first kiss_" He would not look at Hummel, He would not look at Hummel, He would not lo- Ah fuck, he looked. "_Had your eyes wide open, why were they open?_" Speaking of eyes, his were moving all over the room, anywhere but Hummel, anywhere but Hummel.

"_Gave you all I had and you tossed it in the trash_" Easier to not look at Hummel. Since when had he given him anything? "_You tossed it in the trash, you did…_"

"_To give me all your love is all I ever asked_" Well, not in so many words… "_'Cause what you don't understand is…_"

Kurt stared at Karofsky, it was obvious that the jock had picked the song quite literally five seconds before he had to perform, and you would have had to be an idiot, or just completely unaware of what was going on with Karofsky, to miss the way his eyes kept flicking back to Kurt.

Kurt, for his part, watched Karofsky with the same amount of interest he showed the rest of the club when they performed. No more, and maybe just a bit less.

_I'd catch a grenade for ya  
__Throw my hand on a blade for ya  
__I'd jump in front of a train for ya  
__You know I'd do anything for ya_

It wasn't that he was bad; Kurt had already been willing to admit that Karofsky actually had some form of talent when it came to performing. It was just that… He didn't _want_ to have a lot of interest in Karofsky's performance. He didn't _want_ to find something about Karofsky he could connect with. He'd already extended that olive branch, and that was as far as he went.

_I would go through all this pain  
__Take a bullet straight through my brain  
__Yes, I would die for you, baby  
__But you won't do the same  
__No, no, no, no_

And not to mention his song choice, last second or not, it was creepy.

Okay, not the song itself, but the way Karofsky seemed to be looking anywhere but him, as if the second they made eye contact the song would magically be about him. Hah, _no_. If anyone paid _any_ attention to the lyrics they would realize that _nothing_ applied to him, or Karofsky.

_Black, black, black and blue, beat me 'til I'm numb  
__Tell the devil I said, hey, when you get back to where you're from  
__Mad woman, bad woman, that's just what you are, yeah  
__You'll smile in my face then rip the brakes out my car_

And, _wonderful_, Karofsky seemed to be restraining himself from getting lost in the song. Yet _another_ reason as to the teen being messed up. Why would Kurt want to have to deal with that?

_Gave you all I had and you tossed it in the trash  
__You tossed it in the trash, yes, you did  
__To give me all your love is all I ever asked  
__'Cause what you don't understand is_

There he went saying he didn't understand again, jeez, it was like he thought Kurt was an id- it's a song, Kurt. Stop it. It's not about you. No matter how much your brain tells you otherwise. Just a song.

_I'd catch a grenade for ya  
__Throw my hand on a blade for ya  
__I'd jump in front of a train for ya  
__You know I'd do anything for ya_

Kurt found himself looking Karofsky over, analyzing what he was doing. He was stiff as a board, and seemed determined to stay that way.

Kurt stopped analyzing Karofsky.

_I would go through all this pain  
__Take a bullet straight through my brain  
__Yes, I would die for ya, baby  
__But you won't do the same_

Okay, so Karofsky was reaching the end of the song, which was good. It meant he was almost finished, which meant he would be sitting down and retreating to his own world soon, which meant that he could stop messing with Kurt's mind and _stop looking at him like that_.

_If my body was on fire  
__Ooh, you'd watch me burn down in flames  
__You said you loved me, you're a liar  
__'Cause you never, ever, ever did, baby_

Karofsky closed his eyes, and Kurt let out a breath that he had not only not been aware he'd been holding, but had been threatening to make his lungs explode.

_But darling, I'd still catch a grenade for ya  
__Throw my hand on a blade for ya  
__I'd jump in front of a train for ya  
__You know I'd do anything for ya  
__I would go through all this pain  
__Take a bullet straight through my brain  
__Yes, I would die for you, baby  
__But you won't do the same  
__No, you won't do the same  
__You wouldn't do the same  
__Ooh, you never do the same  
__No, no, no, no_

With that, Karofsky reopened his eyes and walked to a seat, ignoring Rachel's enthusiastic clapping and instead opting to, _surprise_, retreat into his own world, away from Glee club.

"Okay," Mr. Schu said, walking forward. "Thank you, David, for finally performing." Everyone else had performed at various points throughout the week "Now, I know this isn't what I normally do, but I'm going to be telling you all next week's assignment now, so that you all can get a head start."

Everyone glanced at each other in confusion. Sometimes Kurt wondered if Mr. Schu loved being difficult or if he was just that befuddling.

"Now, I've noticed that you all work your best when we do a partners exercise." Uh oh. "So I've decided 'what better way to let our two newest members get fully into the swing of Glee?'"

Kurt bit back a groan, and Karofsky looked like he'd been hit over the head with a rotten salmon: confused and a bit disgusted.

"Mr. Schu," Rachel started, but was cut off by the teacher holding up a hand.

"No buts Rachel, pretty soon we're going to have to think about Sectionals, and in order for that to go smoothly, we need you all to get along. Therefore, I'll be assigning your partners this time, I need to shake you out of your comfort zone, and get you all to get along."

Oh, Mr. Schu… Ever the optimist. Ever the naivety.

Ever the 'not one to make empty threats when it comes to Glee Club.'

Kurt fought valiantly against the urge to groan as Mr. Schue pulled out his list of pair-ups.

This was going to be a loooooong week.

* * *

I do not own Grenade by Bruno Mars.

For the record, I planned the 'partner up' thing and _then_ remembered that they'd already done the duets thing. Ergo that brief explanation. I know it doesn't seem like it, but things should be picking up soon.

You'll notice that I've been playing around with the style when people are singing, this is to find where I'm comfortable with it.


	9. Announcement

**Announcement**

Hey, everyone. I know it sucks when someone writing a story puts up an announcement instead of a chapter. But bare with me.

Over the past couple months, I've been trying to write this story while working on a few original projects, art class, school, my novel, and my RP (Along with the behind-the-scenes drama between me and another of the RPers), and as of late I just _can't_ get anything written for this. I've lost my narrative voice for the story and I think I actually lost it a few chapters ago. I became more worried about getting a chapter up on time than I was about actually moving the story or telling a story that makes sense. And I need to work to find it again.

I am not ending this story. I am not abandoning it. I _am_ going to finish it one day, but I need to take some time away and focus on some other projects, get my head clear, and then I'll be back and ready to finish this.

I feel bad for not giving you guys anything, so here's an omake I wrote a while ago:

**If Dave actually escaped to Canada**

It had been a long journey involving a traveling circus, a grizzly bear, and a giant squid, but at the end of the week Dave finally stumbled, bleeding and dizzy, into Canada.

After spending a day unconscious under a pine tree with a very nice family of squirrels, Dave set out to make himself a new life in this strange new world.

He got a job as an apprentice to a purveyor of foods, although his official title was 'store clerk', and took it upon himself to become an expert in his master's way.

And so he integrated himself among the people, blending in perfectly as the harsh year-round winter forced him into bulky clothes as the wind reddened his face and the chill numbed his fingers.

But the country was beautiful, and Dave often found himself wandering outside of the town to just be among the trees.

On the third day, he sharpened a stick and made himself a spear, his intention for walking outside the town at night changed from simply observing nature to hunting moose.

He spoke a lot with some of the locals, they took a liking to his crass humor and he took a liking to their blunt attitudes.

Of course, nothing good could ever last. On the eighth day, as he was closing up his master's shop, a wild-haired brunette woman appeared by his side in a flurry of snow and grabbed him right above the elbow. She squeezed until it hurt to move before pulling him behind her as they hiked the entire way back to Lima, Ohio.

And that's why escaping to Canada would never work. But at the very least Dave could make the rest of the Glee club wonder what the hell he'd been doing by wearing the antlers he'd gotten during one of his many moose hunting excursions.

**An explanation**

A lot of you were wondering about the gun thing, well, that _also_ has a lot to do with losing the narrative. I originally wrote it as a reference to the TV show Spaced (Go to youtube and search 'Spaced Gunfight' for an idea) but the explanation behind it wasn't as clear as I originally planned, the explanation was gonna be that the glee club have a 'semi-telepathic connection' that Puck mentions to Dave (when Dave says how crazy the club is) which he then demonstrates by starting the gunfight.

**One more thing:**

Dave and Kurt weren't paired up in the latest assignment, see if you can guess the match-ups. (Remember, the point of the assignment is to get people out of their comfort zones)


	10. Chapter 10

**I do not own glee, nor Wicked.**

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It was disturbingingly sunny that Saturday, Kurt squinted his eyes in annoyance as he looked out his car's windshield at the place he'd come to a stop at.

His first instinct was that he'd gone to the wrong place, because really there was no way, but after checking between the note with the address written on it and the address on the building five more times failed to make it change, he sighed and got out of the car.

In front of him, in an obnoxious display of bright colors and crudely enforced alliteration, stood the place called Blooms' Booming Bakery.

With a sigh, Kurt brushed his fingertips along his hair and adjusted his backpack as he walked up to the building and gently pushed the door open. He winced as the bell rang through the store in an echoing 'ch-ding' as the scent of freshly baked bread with the sugary tint of frosting began its attack on his nose.

A woman looked up from where she'd been behind the counter, dark red hair pulled back in a bun and a wearing a shirt so stained Kurt honestly wondered why she hadn't burned it by that point, and she smiled at him.

"Hello, welcome to Blooms' Boomin' Bakery. I'm Rebecca Bloom. May I help you?" To her credit, Kurt could barely tell that she'd rehearsed that, and her friendliness seemed to be presented with the utmost sincerity.

That being said, he was not going to sucked into whatever business plan that woman was doing, he was much too smart to be suckered into buying fifty pounds of bread… Or whatever else they sold there, for that matter.

"Uh, actually…" Kurt looked around, trying to spot the other teenager. "I'm Kurt Hummel, I'm looking for Sarah…?" Where could she have been?

The woman, more than likely Sarah's mother now that he thought about it, nodded. "Ah, yes. Sarah told me you were coming." She opened up a section of the counter and motioned for him to come in. "Just head on back to the kitchen, Sarah's working on an order."

Kurt gave a wary look around as he stepped through, half expecting to be killed and baked into a pie the moment he left the safety of the other side of the counter. But, morbid humor and tendency to read disturbing novels aside, all that happened was Rebecca smiled warmly at him and gestured back towards the kitchen.

Kurt walked back into the bakery, the already overpowering scent of bread-based foods becoming extraordinarily strong as he approached the source.

The kitchen was different than the main store, brighter, cheerier, warmer…

In the middle of the kitchen, Sarah stood by an island counter, spooning what appeared to by strawberry cake batter into a muffin tin.

Kurt would be the first to admit that it probably wasn't the thing to focus on given the circumstances, but he couldn't help but give a slight wince at the sight of her stained jeans, frizzled hair sticking out behind her in a ponytail, shirt that was at least five sizes too large and even more stained than the pants, and oh god there was dried cake batter on her glasses.

Horror. Pure horror.

He stood in the doorway for a full minute (he knew, he'd counted) before Sarah happened to glance up and see him as she finished filling that particular muffin tin.

"Kurt," She gave a smile, and Kurt couldn't help but notice how much more sincere it seemed than any of the smiles she'd given during Glee practice. "Hey, I was just…" She motioned to the cake batter. "That." A nervous giggle, and the sincerity of the smile dropped by at least five percent.

"Yeah, I noticed." He looked to the future cupcakes before turning his attention to elsewhere in the room, looking at the ovens and freshly baked goods. Sarah shifted her weight awkwardly before picking up the tray and heading over to an oven.

After the cupcakes were in the oven and the timer was set, Sarah turned back to Kurt. "So… Do you have any ideas…?"

Immediately, Kurt snapped into 'glee mode' walking over to the only table not covered in baking equipment or ingredients, and motioned for Sarah to come over.

In a few seconds, the other teen was by his side, her hands clasped behind her back and her lower lip firmly fixed between her teeth.

Kurt pulled his Glee notebook out of his backpack, opening it to a page. "Okay, so I spent last night thinking about duets that were neither love songs nor incredibly boring, and I came up with a few suggestions." Try as he might, he couldn't stop looking at Sarah's outfit, and her hair, oh god it was like a train wreck.

"Hm…" Sarah leaned forward, looking over the short list. "I… Know none of these songs."

Oh… He had his work cut out for him.

"Okay…" Kurt said with a sigh, closing the notebook. "I can see that this isn't going to work out until we get a few things done."

"… What?" Sarah tilted her head, the universal sign of 'I am confused'

"Well, for starters." He looked over her. "Your clothes. You need a new wardrobe entirely. And then you need to get your hair cut, and then I need to introduce you to all of these musicals."

Sarah stared at him with wide eyes; surprised at the direction the conversation had taken. "I… W-what's wrong with w-what I wear?"

Kurt scoffed, standing up. "What isn't wrong with what you wear?" He turned her around, taking off the apron before grabbing her wrist. "Come along, we have a 'mall' day ahead of us."

"But…" Sarah looked back in the kitchen. "I'm working…"

"Not anymore." Kurt rolled his eyes before addressing Sarah's mother as they exited the kitchen. "Mrs. Bloom!" The older woman turned to look at him. "I was wondering if it would be all right for me to take Sarah for the day?"

After a moment, Rebecca smiled and nodded. "Of course it's fine, I'll just call in her brother to work for her." To Sarah, she said, "It's nice that you're making friends, dear. Have fun!"

Hearing all he needed to, Kurt practically dragged Sarah out of the bakery and towards his car.

Ten minutes later they arrived at the mall, Sarah curled up in her seat as she looked out the window.

"Okay," Kurt said, mentally running through his checklist of what they needed to do. "So here we are. Our first stop is the glasses store, we need to get you a pair better suited for your face."

"I…" Sarah licked her lips, her fingers twining with her frizzled hair. "I have contacts at home…" Her voice quiet, he almost hadn't heard her.

"Oh you do? Good, that's one less stop. In which case we need to go to some clothing outlets and then get your hair cut." Kurt paused before taking out his Glee notebook. He opened it and scribbled a note inside. "I've also just figured out what our duet will be. So when we're done here I'll take you to my house where you can listen to the song and we can figure out choreography."

Well, he would figure out choreography, he suspected that Sarah would only be learning choreography.

Sarah stayed quiet, so Kurt gave her a smile and patted her upper arm before getting out of the car.

Ninety minutes, three hundred twenty two and a half articles of clothing gone through, and five different shenanigans too epic to be transcribed to words later, Kurt pulled Sarah into a hair salon.

He pushed Sarah in front of him, five bags of clothing on his arms and three in hers. "Well, it's not my usual choice, but then again my usual choice involves having to call and schedule an appointment at least two months in advance, so a place that takes walk-ins and still manages pretty impressive results will work for today."

It wasn't Super Cuts. Stop saying that it was.

Kurt talked with the receptionist and managed to get Sarah into a slot in the next five minutes and spent the time they waited flipping through a catalogue of hair styles.

When it was Sarah's turn, Kurt followed her back, showing the hair stylist what he was thinking before going back out to the front to wait.

Another half an hour before Sarah came back out, her lower lip scissored between her teeth as she moved her head from side to side, most likely trying to get used to the feeling of so much hair being gone.

Kurt took a moment to admire his handwork, her hair tamed from the wild beast it once was, it gave off just the faintest curl and came down just enough to cover her ears. Her new clothes (Kurt wouldn't let her leave the store until she had changed into one of the outfits they'd bought) clung tightly to her body, the colors making her seem less pale and making her eyes pop even behind her hideous glasses (which he could sadly do nothing about beyond instructing her to wear contacts from then on)

Kurt gave her a grin after her haircut was paid for. Her handed her some of the bags and grabbed her forearm, pulling her along behind him. "Well, now that all of that is done, it's time to go to my house and get to work."

The grin that Sarah gave him was excitement, he was sure. The girl needed to work on her smiles, though. She looked like someone had just told her that she was going to be put on a medieval rack and slowly stretched apart.

… Maybe he should stop reading so much of that stuff in history class, it was starting to seep into his everyday life.

Nevertheless, soon he and the ever-so-silent Sarah were back at his house. He left the clothes in the car and pulled her down to his room.

"Okay." Once they were in his room he turned to her, an excited smile on his face as he body practically sang with excitement. "So, the song I have picked out for us is not only from my favorite musical of all time, but I think that it's almost perfectly suited for what we've done today."

A pause. "Yay?" Sarah offered, her voice still quiet.

Kurt grinned as if an entire room of people had applauded the announcement.

"Well, of course." He walked over to his laptop, pulling up the playlist. "Now, we're going to just run through the song once and then figure out choreography." He smiled at Sarah before starting the track and speaking along.

"Sarah," A little name change wouldn't hurt. "Now that we're friends, I've decided to make you my new project!"

"You really don't have to do that..." Sarah winced, her voice still quiet. Kurt grinned, he hadn't realized that she knew the song.

"I know, that's what makes me so nice!" He walked to the center of the room, turning as if he were addressing an audience.

"_Whenever I see someone less fortunate than I_," he paused for a moment, as if reconsidering the sentence. "_(And let's face it, who isn't less fortunate than I?) My tender heart tends to start to bleed and when someone needs a makeover, I simply have to take over!_"

He turned and looked at Sarah, who was standing to the side, doing her best impression of his wall paper. "_I know, I know exactly what they need!_"

He walked over, setting his fingertips on her shoulder. "_And even in your case, though it's the toughest case I've yet to face, don't worry, I'm determined to succeeeeeed!_" He moved behind her, grabbing her shoulders and pushed her forward, practically giggling as he continued singing. "_Follow my leeeaaad, and yes indeed, you will be..._"

He spun her, eliciting a surprised shriek. "_POPULAR! You're gonna be popular!_" He sat her down on his bed, sitting next to her, his legs kicking out. "_I'll teach you the proper ploys, when you talk to boys,_" he traced a finger along her chin, her mouth clenched tightly, her eyes wide. "_Little ways to flirt and flounce, ooh!_" He set a hand on her shoulder, grinning. "_I'll show you what shoes to wear!_" He motioned to her feet, where a pair of her new designer shoes rested. "_How to fix your hair!_" He brushed a few strands out of her face. "_Everything that really counts to be..._"

He jumped to his feet, turning to look at the girl on his bed. "_POPULAR! I'll help you be popular! You'll hang with the right cohorts,_" He moved as if there were people all around him. "_You'll be good at sports,_" He mimed playing tennis. "_Know the slang you've got to know. So let's start, 'cause you've got an awfully long way to go!_" He held the last word, giving her a sympathetic look. Sarah's face remained blank as she watched him.

"_Don't be offended by my frank analysis,_" He pulled her to her feet again, spinning her. "_Think of it as personality dialysis, now that I've chosen to become a pal, a sister and advisor, there's nobody wiser!_" He tapped the top of his head, grinning and holding Sarah's hand up with his other hand. "_Not when it comes to..._" He spun her again so that she stood, looking at his full-length mirror.

"_POPULAR!_" He stood behind her, hands on her shoulders, grinning at their reflections. "_I know about popular. And with an assist from me,_" he pointed to himself "_to be who you'll be, instead of dreary who you were...uh, are. There's nothing that can stop you, from becoming popu_ler... lar..."

"_la la, la la!_" he swayed them in time to the music. "_We're gonna make you pop-u-lar!_"

"_When I see depressing creatures,_" A finger under her chin, tilting her head up to look in the mirror. "_With unprepossessing features, I remind them on their own behalf to - think - of celebrated heads of state, or specially great communicators!_" He mimed talking on a phone. "_Did they have brains or knowledge? Don't make me laugh!_"

"_They were POPULAR!_" He stepped back, throwing his arms out. "_Please! It's all about popular. It's not about aptitude, it's the way you're viewed, so it's very shrewd to be, very very popular like ME!_" He pointed his fingers to his chest before dropping the singing, taking a step forward.

"Why, miss Sarah, look at you. You're beautiful!" And all thanks to him.

"I, I have to go..." Sarah turned and hurried to his door, as if she'd been going to flee the room. He would never fail to be surprised that she knew the song.

"You're welcome..." He called after her, spinning on his toes, Sarah leaning against the door and watching him, her hand resting on the knob.

"_And though you protest, your disinterest, I know clandestinely, you're gonna' grin and bear it! You're new found popularity! Ah!_" He had to hold back laughter of excitement as he came close to the end of the song. Oh, this was great. He couldn't wait until the Glee club got an eyeful of them on Monday.

"_La la, la la! You'll be popular! Just not quite as popular as ME!_"

He grinned as the music ended, bowing to the imaginary audience before turning to Sarah.

"That was great! Now lets run through it a few more times." He walked up the stairs, taking her hand and pulling her back down so they could practice.

Well, maybe she wouldn't be so bad to have in Glee, after all. Now that she looked acceptable and was learning his favorite musical, he might even consider becoming friends with the girl.

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**After forever and a day, I finally update. I'm toying around with how to do musical numbers, and I kind of like this.**

**I also seem to have a thing for unintentional!bitch!Kurt. Don't worry, he'll get better(ish)**

**Also, if there's anyone in my readers who knows how to make a mashup, could you please contact me? Because I need one for a number in the next chapter.**


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